Friday, August 30, 2013

The Abandoned house

The house is empty, and the windows are windowless, or completely boarded up. The front door hasn't been opened in years, and the front lawn is overgrown with weeds and bushes that climb there way up the walls of the house. An as I Jimmy open the door, it creaks and cracks, as if screaming at the pain of broken bones. Inside, I can see the living room, with all the furniture in disarray, and the caked in carpet that has seen years of lonely servitude. So as I walk through each room, swiping at the spider webs that crawl over each corner of every wall, I can feel my feet against the ground as if I wandered deep into a dark swamp, with the mud up against my shoes like disembodied hands trying to pull me under. I can even begin to hear the sounds of distant insects, as they echo through the air until eventually entering my eardrums, as they buzz around as if from every direction.
   I am now heading around the living room, that almost encircles the kitchen, with the once papered walls limping downwards as they slowly detach themselves from there once so prominent relationship. Around the corner lays the dining  room, with the patio behind and the kitchen to the left of me. The dining room table is set, with plates and utensils circling as if ready for guests. As I look out onto the patio though, there is no sign of the outside world, as they have fully closed it in with plastic siding. To the left, the sliding glass door sits vicariously, although caked in mud (much like the carpet through the rest of the house). I end up heading back into the kitchen, where the coldness of the tile floors runs its way up my legs and rests itself onto the back of my neck. The floor actually, is fairly clean, looking as if its been recently mopped, as well as the appliances, with their avocado coloring, looking as if they were newly bought straight from the seventies. In fact, most of the kitchen looks fairly new, but as I open up the cupboards I find all but empty spaces, except for the random webs that the spiders now call home. An as i crouch down, to run my fingers across one of the tiles, all i find is a light layering of dust, maybe two or more days worth. The stove though, I find, is slightly slanted, narrowly hitting the floor except for the partial rubber stamp that hasn't quite eroded yet. Its strange, why would the whole house be in such an advanced stage of decomposition, except for the kitchen. Its as if the body is dead but the heart still has life, but a sentient being this is not.
   As I get closer to the stove, I can see the grease marks that maculate themselves onto  the window, as if something may still be inside. Leaning over to open up the door, I find the light still struggles to turn on, but I do not find anything inside, except for the blackened crust that wraps itself around the entirety of the racks. The whole of the inside is actually mostly encrusted, as if its never been clean. This place is really starting to freak me out, as I now start to believe that walking away from here is the best plan of action. Its like that feeling you get sometimes, after watching a scary movie, that something or someone is creeping right up behind your back. But as I turn around to leave, the same way I came in, I notice the dining room table is no longer set, in fact there is only one plate now, at the end, with only a knife and fork adorning the sides. An the chair, is pulled out, like its waiting for someone to sit upon it. So as I see this, my body starts to shake, as if trying to reject a body part. Seeing this, my body freezes itself into place, until  I finally begin to break free a minute or so later. An that is when I run for the door, as it once again screams in agony like an older gentleman with a bad back. Once outside I sit still on the sidewalk, with my hands upon my knees, feeling as if I had just run a Marathon. But as I begin to walk away, I see the lights on, as if its suddenly breathing new life, like a family member that at once, but slowly, comes out of a year long coma. But the weird thing is, the thing that really straightens out my neck hair, is I too, coincidentally, feel as if I have breathed new life, as if the frozen waters have finally receded, and show the signs of an oasis, or the  quaint imagery of a forested valley, ready to be explored.

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